


Hands All Over

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 4x1, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, POV Multiple, PWP, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Smut, Woops, i don't even know where this came from, literally just so much sex, literally no plot whatsoever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Clarke loses her bobby pins to Bellamy and one time somebody else finds them first.<br/>(Or, Bellamy has a habit of pulling Clarke's hair, and she likes it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands All Over

**Author's Note:**

> This is just ridiculous… I can't even. It was too much fun to ignore all the canon & life stress, so here ya go XD

I.  
The first time it happened, Clarke was caught completely unaware. 

She and Bellamy had started their trek into the woods with every intention of going hunting. But she had severely underestimated just how much she’d missed him the past week while he was off on a scouting trip to another fallen section of the Ark, and just the mere sight of him the day before had sent her emotions spiraling. There wasn't much she could do aside from offer a quick hug - that was normal by now, at least - before they got back to the tasks at hand. They were still keeping their newfound relationship quiet - by mutual agreement - and anyways Clarke didn't need everyone to know just how much she'd missed him. Plus, there was work to do. The camp wouldn't run itself.

But now they were _finally_ alone and far from wandering eyes, and so instead of paying attention to her surroundings, Clarke's gaze was stuck on him. The way his shirt clung to his broad body in the heat, how his damp curls flattened over his forehead, the callouses in his palm grazing her hip as he helped her over a tricky patch of rocks. 

There was nothing more she wanted than to drag him into a cave and have her way with him. 

About an hour later, when they’d caught zero animals and gone through one flask of water and Bellamy's touches were in no way innocent any longer, that was essentially what happened. Except he wasn’t so much as dragged as the one walking her backwards, his mouth firmly clamped onto hers with no intention of letting go. Her legs were wrapped around his waist by the time he lowered her to the cave floor, laying atop her. It was the first time in eight days that she had him all to herself, and Clarke plundered his mouth with the realization that it might be several days before it happened again.

A groan sounded deep in his throat before Bellamy wrenched his mouth from hers, hands wandering down her body and pressing over the seam of her pants. Clarke whimpered and twisted, making him grin. Then his lips trailed along her jaw, soon doing something to the spot directly behind her ear that rendered her useless. All she could do was rake her nails through his messy curls, her soft gasps encouraging him on. Almost in retaliation, his fingers twisted around her hair to yank her head further back, sending the most delicious of sparks down her spine directly to her center. 

Clarke let out a sound halfway between a squeak and a cry that echoed off the walls. 

Thank god they weren’t in earshot of anyone. Bellamy pulled back in alarm only to find her blushing nearly to her toes, chest heaving and lips parted in surprise. It took him mere _seconds_ , damn him, to realize that she more than just _liked_ it. A curious glint entered his eyes. 

Deliberately, he reached up and eased the pins from her hair one by one, tucking them into his coat pocket. Then he curled a hand into her tresses, wrapped them firmly around his fingers, and pulled. When the same embarrassing sound left her mouth - _oh god, it was even louder this time_ \- a devilish smirk split his face. Between that, and his already far too talented mouth and hands, Clarke knew she was a total goner.

She was dripping wet by the time he tugged off her pants, and the way he raised a cocky eyebrow from the cradle of her thighs told her he knew exactly why. There was no time to be sheepish about how fast she fell apart against his mouth, because then he slid up and into her and her head was knocking back against the floor as their groans mixed together in the air. When she dug her nails into his shoulders minutes later, desperate for the tight feeling inside her to snap once more, Bellamy's hand wound into her hair and gave a sharp tug.

As far as she was concerned, that was the beginning of the end.

 

II.  
Now, Clarke was fairly certain his eyes gleamed every time they landed on her, entirely too proud with the knowledge of exactly how to reduce her to a shaking mess. Her only consolation was that she could return the favor more than capably. Making Bellamy lose control - with her name on his lips, no less - was at the top of her list of all-time favorite things to do.

Which, as it turned out, was exactly how she lost the pins again one morning. 

It wasn’t like it was her intention to jump him before the sun came up. But because they were still being careful around everyone else, they didn't always get to be alone for long, so she greedily took advantage of even the smallest moments they had together. 

And so when Clarke woke up to his solid, shirtless form pressed against her back in the dark bubble of the tent, she was helpless to fight the bolt of arousal that coursed through her body. The previous day had been long and stressful and spent entirely in the med bay, and at night she’d collapsed next to him without a thought. Now, all she could think of was to wake him in much the same way he often woke her, with soft caresses and careful touches that slowly turned to more.

Quickly shedding her clothes, she dragged her mouth over his warm skin, tracing the dips and grooves of muscle she already knew so well. Bellamy shifted but otherwise didn’t wake. Clarke took her sweet time, tasting the sweat in the crevices between his abs and tracing the sharp lines of his hipbones. She moved lower and lower until he was startled from his sleep to find her sitting between his legs, flashing him a devious grin as her hand took hold of his rapidly hardening length.

“Good morning,” she laughed.

His drowsy eyes widened as he registered what he was seeing. “Clarke,” he rasped, reaching for her.

She shook her head once before lowering her mouth to wrap around his cock, swirling her tongue over the velvety skin. Bellamy choked on a surprised moan as his hips thrust upwards. Seconds later, his fingers buried deep into her hair, pulling and tugging until it hung over her shoulders, the pins falling to the dirt. She answered every tug with her own pressure, leaving them both a wreck by the time he yanked her up. Then she was shuddering and sinking down on him, too far gone to remember a damn thing aside from his mouth on her breast and his hand at her clit. 

It was only later that he caught her grumbling about lack of pins in the med bay. She was leaning over her latest patient, having apologized for the third time as her long hair tickled the girl’s nose. Bellamy’s laugh hastily turned into a cough, and he backed out of the ship with a quick excuse. Clarke was still muttering when he strolled in a little while later, slipping up behind her and pressing something into her palm. 

“You dropped something, princess,” he whispered, his breath hot on her ear. Opening her hand, Clarke was met with the sight of three dark pins. Bellamy winked, whistling as he left.

She had to splash her face twice with cold water before returning to work.

 

III.  
If Clarke was being honest with herself, she only encouraged his habit of unwinding her hair every time they were together, because she kind of loved how much it drove him crazy. 

One day Bellamy convinced her to take a trip into the woods, insisting he’d found the rare fauna she’d been after for weeks. It was only when the camp noise dimmed that she got suspicious, but when she turned to ask him his mouth descended onto hers, slow and coaxing. She responded instinctively, their lips molding together in easy familiarity even as his hand crept up to tug at her ponytail, not bothering to untie it. 

Her squeak of pleasure made him laugh warmly as he turned his attention to her neck. Under his soft, insistent touch, Clarke slowly gave into him, welcoming the distraction and relief he was offering. Before she knew it, she was lying on the forest floor, hands twisted into his thick hair, tugging his mouth back to hers as her legs locked around his hips. She was surrounded by him, by the smell of pine and rain and soft earth, and it pulled at her desire like quicksand. Her hips rocked against his in a plea as her fingers crawled under his shirt, tracing the muscles beneath. A low groan pulled from his throat, vibrating against her before he bit her lower lip. 

It wasn’t long before they got rid of their clothes, and Clarke took advantage of the moment to push him to his back. Soon she was desperately writhing in his lap, shaking as he latched his mouth onto her breast.

“Please, Bell,” she begged, even as his strong hands kept her hips at a leisurely pace that had her striving for something _just_ out of reach. He only smiled, slow and wicked, never letting up the torturously slow pace. In a fit of desperation, she reached up and tugged the pins from her hair. The waves tumbled loosely over her shoulders as she pushed him to lie back, surrounding them in a yellow cocoon as she kissed him hard.

Bellamy cursed hoarsely into her mouth, both hands flying into her hair as his hips suddenly and repeatedly pistoned upwards without mercy. Clarke wailed, unable to do much but hang on, forehead pressed to his shoulder. Bellamy came before her, gasping things into her ear that made her clench around him. It was that, combined with the knowledge that she'd driven him to lose control first, that sent her over the edge.

It was awhile before either of them found the energy to move. When they finally did, the last thing on Clarke’s mind was her pins, so she missed that Bellamy hid them in his pant pocket with a sly grin. 

Later, he caught her huffing and puffing as she leaned over the banister of the half-built hospital, grumpily swatting at loose strands of hair while barking out orders in that bossy way of hers. Of course she felt his gaze, so a glare was sent his way only to have him climb up to where she stood. Because her back was to the wall, he was able to slip the pins into her back pocket without much issue. But then his hand lingered, brushing teasingly over the swell of her ass and under her shirt to the soft skin at her hip.

After a strangled gasp, he received an elbow in response even as she coughed and got the hell out of range of his wingspan - which was far too large - but it only served to make her hot and bothered for the rest of the day. 

And so the night found her crawling into his blankets and disrobing hurriedly in a tangle of limbs and sighs and the occasional giggle, the pins soon right back in his own pocket as he grabbed her hair, covering her moans with his hungry mouth.

 

IV.  
He planned it that way, Clarke was sure of that now. Every time she lost the freaking pins, they somehow found their way back to him, which meant, eventually he was going to return them to her in such a manner that she’d be hopelessly inconvenienced for the remainder of the day.

It was a brilliant plan, and one that worked astonishingly well.

She said as much to him one night in a fit of irritation, and Bellamy looked up in disbelief from where his head was buried between her legs. Her entire being throbbed at the sight of his mouth red and swollen and currently pouting. “Seriously?” He panted. “ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about right now?”

Clarke kicked blindly at him. “If you’d stop _teasing_ and get to it, maybe I wouldn’t be,” she shot back. When a dangerous glint entered his dark eyes, it took all she had to fight her answering shudder.

Bellamy snarled - if she hadn't been so turned on, she might have giggled at the fact that he _snarled_ \- and used his thumbs to spread her lips open, licking a hard line up her slit that made her back arch. Then he shoved his tongue deep inside, fucking her in a reckless rhythm that had her thrashing and clutching uselessly at his blankets. Just when she was chanting _yes yes yes_ , ready for the heat coiled in her body to snap in pleasure, Bellamy pulled back. 

Clarke’s eyes flew open with a loud curse, watching his glistening mouth curve into a smug grin. “Learned a new one, did you princess?”

“Shut up, oh god,” she pushed his head down again. But this time he only dragged his chin along her inner thighs, every scrape of his stubble sending sparks straight to where she wanted him most. Her toes curled at the sweet torture, the pressure she was looking for so close and yet so far. “Damn you, Bellamy,” she moaned, feeling his answering chuckle vibrate right against her folds. Clarke nearly sobbed when his finger finally touched her clit, circling her warmth in an endless tease that had her hips shoving upwards. Then his mouth encircled the bundle of nerves, sucking hard as he drove two long fingers inside her.

Only the bite marks on her hand kept her screams from reaching the entire camp. She shook through the release, pleasure flooding her body in waves before she flopped uselessly back onto the mat. 

Bellamy crawled up her body, ravaging her mouth in a kiss. "Does that count as _getting to it?_ " Before she could respond, he was twisting her onto her stomach, his length hard against her thigh as he leaned close. She lost any remaining breath when he pulled her to her hands and knees, a hand fisting in her hair. With a tug, she was arching up, panting heavily as he slid inside her with a groan muffled into her shoulder. 

"Oh, fuck, Bell-" Clarke pushed back against him, his cock creating delicious friction against her walls. Bellamy curled an arm around her waist, bringing her flush against him as he slowly drew out. His other hand splayed over her ribs, dragging slowly upwards to roll and tug at a nipple. Her head tipped back with a small whimper. Bellamy's mouth curved wickedly against her skin seconds before his hips snapped up, and she again bit her hand to stifle her wail, only staying upright because of his tight hold. The breath rushed past her lips as she began to tremble from his thrusts, the pressure already building rapidly inside her once more. 

When he let her go she sank down onto the mat, her face pressed into the blankets as he continued driving into her. The release hit her hard and fast, and Clarke cried out into the crook of her arms, feeling Bellamy shudder as her walls clenched around him. He was losing control, she just knew it from the way his fingers wonderfully bruised her hips and his breath sounded harshly in the air. Moments later he was chanting her name into her ear as he came. 

They both collapsed on the mat, Clarke still facedown and Bellamy rolling to his back. 

“You know the pins are just in my pockets, right,” he muttered afterwards, and Clarke wanted to laugh and ask _are you really still thinking about that_ but she was too busy gulping air into her lungs. 

“Hnngh,” was all she managed, and he tugged at her arm until she was sprawled atop him. 

He smirked in lazy satisfaction. “Trust me, I value my life too much to lose them.”

By that point, her mind was barely even functioning, so she was lucky to remember to pull the quilts over their bodies before she fell asleep tucked into his side. And in the morning, the pins remained in his pocket as she hurriedly dressed, kissed his adorably rumpled and sleepy face, tried not to let him undress her - and failed, oh so miserably - before rushing from the tent. 

She decided it was definitely all Bellamy’s fault when her newest patient sneezed in her face after being tickled by her hair one too many times.

 

V.  
Bellamy was sprawled facedown in his tent, happily reliving the latest memory of his morning with Clarke, when his sister marched in. He cracked open an eyelid to see her bustling around the tent and grabbing random items whenever she saw fit.

“Hello to you too,” he said dryly.

“Ugh, you’re such a _boy._ ” Octavia kicked his leg until his eyes opened again. She was holding up an old rag he’d used to wipe down one of the tent poles after a particularly harsh storm. “How have you not washed this yet?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Didn’t need it.” He scrunched his face. “Since when are you so domestic?”

Only instinct taught him to roll to the side before the rag came flying at him. “Since _you_ are apparently too useless to do normal things like wash.”

“Sorry O, busy running a camp here.”

“Yeah, it looks like a lot of work,” she replied wryly, and he chuckled, shifting to his back. Her eyes widened when caught sight of the jacket hanging off the back of his chair. “Okay, that’s it. Look, I know you’re attached to this thing but it’s getting filthy. At least let me dunk it in the river with my stuff.”

Octavia didn’t wait for an answer, simply yanking it into her arms and patting down the pockets. Bellamy rolled his eyes, ready to get back to his daydream until he realized his sister was just standing there with a strange look on her face.

“O?” He waved a hand. “Helloooo, Earth to Octavia.”

A mischievous smile formed on her face as she looked up, drawing something from the pocket of his jacket. “I know your hair’s getting long, big brother, but somehow I don’t think these are yours.”

Bellamy’s gaze shot to the dark bobby pins in her palm. He had just enough time to think _oh, shit_ before Clarke ducked inside the tent, muttering and shoving hair from her eyes.

“Bell I swear to god, you better have those pins or--”

She stopped as soon as she registered that he wasn’t alone, but it was too late. Octavia looked back and forth between them, her mouth dropping open victoriously as she put two and two together with nothing short of glee.

Clarke sucked in a breath, glancing at him in worry even as a familiar blush crawled up her neck. But Bellamy only grinned widely, a wordless reassurance that he didn’t mind one bit. Frankly, he was rather proud to announce to the world that he’d finally gotten his princess. (And that he knew how to make her scream. Repeatedly.)

As Clarke gauged the look on his face, a small, shy smile curved her lips in response.

Then his sister coughed pointedly. “Damn. It’s like I’m not even here.”

Clarke turned bright red and Bellamy chuckled, watching her meekly accept the pins. Octavia managed to keep her shit together for about three more seconds before erupting in raucous laughter, squeezing them both in hugs so hard they were left gasping, and then she was running from the tent - no doubt to spread the news.

He took advantage of Clarke’s shock to yank on her hand, pulling her off balance. She squeaked and tumbled into his lap, automatically clutching his shoulders. The pins fell from her grip onto the ground; she didn’t notice, too busy already tracing the mark she’d left behind his ear a few hours ago. Bellamy’s arm slid around her waist, a hand tangling into her wild hair.

“Well, now I guess there’s no point in being quiet,” he grinned rakishly, capturing her sweet laugh in a kiss. She seemed to agree, if the way she wiggled her hips and settled into his hold were any indication. 

Later, after they had most certainly announced their activities to anyone within a mile, Bellamy found the pins on his mat and shoved them into his back pocket, grinning at the thought of how he might return them to her this time.


End file.
